Glancing back upon the years,
Memories looking like lanterns
Glowing in the back of my mind.
Memories of you lying on the floor
Playing with accidental babies
And counting wrinkles on your skin.
We knew better back then but didn't think to listen
Because you were never a virgin
And I never was a god,
But we made due with our knowledge
Of candlsticks and matches
Keeping little ones warm with hugs,
Sitting in the waiting line
It seems, all our lives,
Still waiting somewhere else.
So I'd go to work
And you'd stay indoors
Drowning accidental babies
Until I returned home
To a liar and a whore,
Realizing I had never met you.
I sped away, forgetting you,
forgetting the offspring
And everything I did not say,
But now that I am older
I know the difference between
Purgatory and innocence.
Now, little lover, because of you,
I can never forget those lives we lived and our
accidental babies who I can never return home to.
Author notes
Option 2) Tell me your secret .... or rather I'll be telling you my secret.
A secret of babies and loves lost so long ago.
A contest entry
- 10 Prompts, 20 Poets, 1000 points by Embossed.
910 points, ended April 9, 2008, 14 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Ultimate Goal by M a r l u x i a.
20000 points, ended June 2, 2008, 978 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Give me a critical thought.
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Wondermous
Ssst. So this is the write that bested my own. I like your use of the term "accidental babies" in this write, don't ask me why it just speaks to me for some reason. It's very sad... but I can feel the pain more than I can feel the despair in this piece. I keep scrolling up and reading it over and over again to see if I can give you any constructive criticism, but unfortunately; I can't! This is a very strong write, I envy your poetic talents, dear poet.
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Phenomenal. My worst criticism? Every line started with a capital letter. That irks me. But it's great that that technicality is all I can complain about.
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first line capitalized... I know. I can't seem to shake the format, but it's what I'm really comfortable with. It may be annoying, but I hope it didn't take away from the quality and substance of the poem. I would hate to see personal style ruin the message of a poem.
Also, thank you so much for the honor of gold. I am very grateful and very humbled. I have had this poem lying under a pile of rubbish. I was trying to hide it from myself, I suppose, but I was glad to find it. It's the first thing that came to my head when I read the prompt. I thought, normally, secrets can be rather dull and cliche, but I wanted to share something very grotesque in my life- not some sort of secret crush or a tale of suicidal thoughts, but rather a mix of truth and memory. I am glad I shared it here. This poem and its impact in my life means so much to me and I feel very grateful for this opportunity. Once again, thank you. And I'd love to hear from you: why did you see this one?
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Wow, Josie. This is incredibly sad. I am afraid of asking you if this is a true story, for the option indicated in the notes would make it seem so. That's terrible. I can't imagine the pain you have gone through.
~Simon
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It's not really pain... It's only a memory now, a memory of mistakes and weariness. Secrets are best told after the sting of the reality has passed. Thanks for stopping by. It's always good to hear from you. Cheers.
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